Water Conducts Electricity
by griggles
Summary: Zuko's journey to master lightning interspersed with the growth of his relationship with Katara. Zutara.


**Hey everyone. This is my first foray into the Avatar world, but I've always loved this pairing and have kind of had a remnant of this story hanging around in my mind for awhile. Don't kill me if the science of this doesn't work or doesn't make sense because of the basic timeframe of Avatar world, I just think it's a cool title/phrase for what I'm trying to do. Enjoy!**

* * *

_To perform the technique requires peace of mind_

Zuko sat quietly in meditation, his focus on absence. The absence of thought, the absence of emotion, the absence of fear. A blank slate.

_There is energy all around us_

He can feel it. The heat of the sun's rays. The buzz of the spiderwasps wings. The energy of the world around him. The energy of life.

_Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies _

Azula can do it. Azula can do anything, though, something of which he is acutely aware. His father could do it, something he was unfortunate enough to see firsthand. These facts no longer bother him. He has made peace with his family.

_The energy wants to restore balance_

As he did. With the Avatar. With her.

_In the moment the positive and negative energy come crashing back together, you provide release and guidance_

He stands up, eyes still closed, mind still locked in tranquility. His breath is calm, repetitive. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It is basic at its core, elementary firebending. It is also natural. It is at peace with itself. Slowly, he begins to move his right arm, his two connected fingers outstretched. His motions are fluid, like a waterbender's. He is not controlling the energy around him. He is merely its humble guide. His hands reconnect at the chest.

_Creating lightning._

The fiery explosion forces him off of the ground as he flies several feet back, landing on his side. His frustration is hidden through a mask of ambivalence. It would be ungrateful, he thinks, to curse his misfortune. He no longer carries an interest in masochism. His personal failures notwithstanding, the Fire Lord is a hero, and heroes do not meet disappointment with anger. But this anger still burns inside of him, fueled not by rage, but desire. Desperation. He wants this so badly, and perhaps, he often wonders, that is why he fails. Once again, it is not his place to feel shame. It is not becoming of a ruler, so he buries it beneath the surface, pretending that these doubts do not exist. To the world, he may be successful, but he can hide nothing from the lightning within himself. And so, he calmly gets back up and returns to his original position to meditate, as he always does. Iroh looks on from a palace window, silently wondering what demons still haunt his wayward son.

* * *

Katara is water. Fire and water don't mix.

"It still hasn't happened yet, has it?" She asks as she shoots a water whip at him. A quick fire blast takes care of it, and suddenly she's on the defensive as his blasts become more aggressive.

"Not yet," he grunts between fire fists.

"It'll happen," she says while trying to regain her footing. She is no ordinary waterbender. She wants to regain dominance.

"I'm not so sure," he admits while positioning himself on the higher ground.

"Come on, if your student can do it than so should you."

This struck a nerve. He leaps forward and attacks with his breath of fire. She doesn't see this coming, and can only barely protect herself with the meager water surrounding her. He does have home-field advantage after all. By the time she regains her senses he's on top of her, fist angled toward her face, his still in attack mode.

"Concede."

"God Zuko we're just sparring."

He lowers his fist and relaxes his gaze.

"I guess I'm just excitable right now."

He drops to the ground to join her.

"It's going to happen you know," she says with that same reassuring smile he's grown to love, "it's just a matter of when."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you're you," she states confidently, "and it's your destiny."

* * *

Toph is Earth. Fire and earth work quite well together. After all, Zuko's seen his share of Volcanoes.

"Ya know Sparky, I've been thinking."

"About?"

"Your little problem."

"Uh huh."

"Maybe this is like when you first tried to teach Aang fire bending."

"What do you mean?"

"You lost your inner fire then. You had nothing to burn."

"That's not exactly how lightning works Toph."

"But it is how _you_ work. Even if lightning doesn't need something to burn, it needs something to follow. Something to lead the way."

"I'm pretty sure that's where I come in."

"You're the source, but you need a conductor."

"And what is this conductor?"

"It's not a _what_," she emphasizes, "it's a who. Who are you doing this for?"

He pauses. It was something he hadn't considered before.

"Myself."

"Nope," she confirms, "try again."

"Something tells me you have an idea of who this conductor might be."

"Oh I have more than an idea, and I think the two of you do too."

"So it's Mai?"

"You know what," she exasperates, "I'll let you figure this one out on your own."

* * *

Iroh isn't fire. If anything, he's closest to air, but restricting him to a single element would be a disservice. He would've made a fine Avatar in another life, Zuko liked to believe.

"Do you know why I can't do it?" He asked his uncle as the two walked down a palace hallway.

"I have my theories."

"Care to enlighten me? I should be cured of all this turmoil by now."

"You aren't looking at this issue correctly, nephew," he opined, "perhaps the answer isn't so black and white. You're limiting yourself to the absolutes of logic. Some problems cannot be solved in your mind, you must draw wisdom from somewhere else."

"I don't think studying water benders is the answer this time."

"You'd do well not look past water benders," he offers, the double entendre lost on his nephew, "after all, they have served you well in the past."

He sits on this for a few moments, his thoughts lost in the echo of their steps.

"It's ironic isn't it?" He muses, "a Fire Lord whose most dangerous weapon comes from the water tribes? The most powerful fire bender in the world, yet I am a slave to the power of my opponent. Maybe lightning was never my destiny, maybe it was always water."

"Perhaps," Iroh wonders, "but I fail to see why it cannot be both."

* * *

Air and water creates hurricanes. Fire tends not to do well in hurricanes, but Zuko can't help but observe the formation of this storm. After all, it's happening under his roof.

"Katara you're being unreasonable. We're trying to fix the world here. You can't fix the world from one place."

"Had it ever occurred to you that maybe I _like_ staying in one place?" She argues, "not that sleeping on rocks and eating leaves don't have their merits, I'm just not quite ready to abandon the first bit of stability I've had since we left the North Pole!"

Zuko considers this for a moment. Perhaps he was a bit too hospitable. The world could certainly use its Avatar far more than Fire Nation royal palace.

"I think you just want to leave," she spits, "I think you need the rush of guiding Appa through fireballs and sleeping with one eye open. I don't think you're capable of confining yourself to one place."

"I'm an air bender! Hello Katara, element of freedom! Of course I can't confine myself to one place! Besides, I thought you liked going on adventures and helping people."

"I do! I just don't want my entire life to be about doing _your_ job. Is that so much to ask?"

The Fire Lord chooses to walk away. He really shouldn't be eavesdropping on such a personal conversation. But he can't help but feel Katara's pain. To be bound to the duty of another, chasing someone else's dream, fighting for another's glory. He has to admit he knows the feeling. Perhaps the extension of his hospitality is not only well deserved, but sorely needed. Besides, water _is_ the element of change.

* * *

The two lie together in silence. It's nice. A break from the harsh realities of nursing a slain giant. He takes in her figure as she lightly crumbles bits of bread on the bank of the pond for the turtleducks. She is longer than he'd realized. Slender, but curvy in the proper places. Her tan complexion often perplexes him. How is it that someone from the South Pole can have such rich, bronzed skin. Azula lived in the sun from birth, yet her pale hue seemed far more in line with a water bender than Katara's ever did. She has been blessed by the spirits, Zuko thought, for she has been granted beauty that defies the absolutes of logic.

He'd never really considered her beauty in isolation, though, partially because he was just beginning to see her as a woman rather than, well, Katara. He begins to wonder how long he's been ignoring this fact. To call her a child at any point in their relationship would be naive, as he knew as well as anyone what happens to the innocence of a child with a lost mother. She is a child of war, making her far more grown up than any teenager should be. But it's more than that. Sokka is a man, but he is a man-child. Similar descriptions could easily fit Toph or Aang, whose immaturity can be spotted at first glance. Never Katara though. She has a mischievous streak, but it is entirely benevolent. Playful would be the proper word, a mother teasing a child over an embarrassing memory. She's always had such active maternal instincts. Even now, as she feeds the turtleducks with a soft smile and outstretched hand. She smiles back at him, but her eyes quickly divert themselves to the ground. It's guilt. It has to be, it's certainly not something else. Not longing. Not confusion

"We're leaving tomorrow."

He hides a quick wince. He knew it was coming, but he loathes it no less.

"It was bound happen sooner or later."

"I'm gonna miss you. Who else am I going to spar with?"

"Is the Avatar not up to your standards?"

"It's not that."

"Well since he's apparently a better firebender than me..."

She gives him a playful shove.

"It's not that. It's just... his heart isn't in it."

"He's not much of a fighter is he?"

"It's not just that. He's reactionary. He doesn't challenge me, he just sort of responds. Besides, it's no fun battling with the Avatar."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"It's almost patronizing. He's the Avatar, he could beat me in ten seconds if he wanted to. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"Welcome to my life."

Another playful shove.

"But you're a real opponent. You have your element and I have mine. We mix, he engulfs. It's hard to be what one person needs when you have to be all things to all people."

More silence.

"I'm going to miss you too," he offers, earning a different kind of smile, "and you know you're always welcome here."

* * *

Mai is metal. She is knives. She is cold. Fire and metal mix. Fire shapes metal. Fire gives metal identity.

But metal and lightning don't mix. Sure, metal conducts lightning, but it conducts it right into the ground. It does not lead, it absorbs. It is a lightning rod.

And frankly, Zuko isn't looking for a lightning rod. But he's not looking for something to shape either. He does not want what he can control. He wants what he can conduct, and what can conduct him. He wants what he can enhance and what can enhance him. He wants what will make him better. He wants what will make him whole.

She isn't surprised when he breaks up with her. He thinks that's what bothers him the most. But metal doesn't feel. It does not grieve. Not as he does.

So he takes his stance in the courtyard. He does what he always does. He breathes. He calms himself. And he fires. But this time he smiles when he's knocked back. At the very least, he thinks, he feels _something_.

* * *

Even the strongest hurricanes die out. No matter the passion, no matter the strength, it always ends the same. Water goes back to being water, air to air.

It's late at night when she comes. He's long since fallen asleep. It's only with the greatest of trepidation that his guards awaken him.

"Excuse me your majesty," one whispers faintly upon entering his quarters. The Fire Lord is, after all, a notoriously light sleeper.

"What are you doing in my quarters?"

"You have a visitor sir, we tried to convince her to wait until morning, but she refused."

"Does this she have a name?"

"Katara, sir."

With that his eyes jolt and he springs out of bed.

"Where is she?"

"She is waiting for you in your study."

He doesn't run. He does not want to convey emergency. But his walk is brisk, purposeful.

She does not look like herself when he enters. She is sprawled out on one of his chairs, tears staining the leather. Her hair is down, slightly disheveled, without her trademark loops. Her blue dress is dirty, the bottom of the skirt slightly tattered, specs of mud visible. She does not greet him when he enters, she stands up and hugs him, tears still streaming.

"Are you ok?"

She does not respond right away. He pats her back carefully, cautiously. After several moments, he leads her to the fireplace. After sitting down, she finds the strength to speak.

"We broke up."

His heart skips a beat.

"What?"

"We broke up. Aang and me. We're done."

"What? What happened?"

"It's just... it's hard to be what one person needs when you have to be all things to all people."

He doesn't know what to say.

"I just... I didn't know where else to go."

He brings her in closer.

"You're always welcome here."

He gives her a shoulder to cry on. He does not console, he accepts that water needs to flow.

"Come on," he offers a hand, "you should get some rest. I'll show you to your quarters."

She pauses for a beat.

"I don't think I can be alone tonight."

"Ok."

He leads her back to his room. She lies down. He prepares to sleep on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to sleep."

"On the floor?"

"We've both done worse."

"Stay with me."

He knows he shouldn't. He knows a lot of things he chooses to ignore.

"Ok."

He lies on the opposite side of the bed. Eventually, her head is on his chest, her arms snaked around his waist. He doesn't sleep a wink after that. He tries, but only ends up fighting a mix of agitation and contentment. Fire and water don't mix after all. When the sun begins to rise, he knows that he's beaten.

"_Couldn't hurt to give it a try,_" he considers as he takes his position in the courtyard. And for the first time, when his arms begin to move he swears he can hear the faintest crackling of lightning.

* * *

Water is nosy. Water is pushy. Water needs to do everything her way. While Zuko knows that these aren't actually elemental characteristics, he silently wishes Katara was more like an air bender. Or perhaps a Badgermole. After all, she can't bother him if she's burrowing underground.

"You'd get more done if your study wasn't so disorganized."

"It's organized disorganization," he responds, "I know where everything is."

"Is that so?" She remarks coolly, "let's say I were to ask where I could find a scroll regarding the latest legislation on Earth Kingdom importation taxes. You'd know exactly where I could find that?"

"It's over there," he points without looking up. She is not amused

"Zuko you're pointing at a chair. A broken chair, one that decidedly does not contain any treaties with the Earth Kingdom."

He places two fingers on his temple in exasperation.

"I could help you clean this place up you know," she offers, "wouldn't want the Earth King, or worse, my father, coming in here to see that you have papers strewn about without any sense of organization."

"I'll pass. I like it this way."

"You mean like a fire?"

This catches his attention.

"You have a tendency to let things spiral. Let me guess, this room was spotless when you first moved in?"

He doesn't disagree.

"And then one day, you let one scroll sit on your desk for a bit too long. Then it was two, then five, and now your disorganization has spread throughout the entire room like a wildfire. Am I right?"

Silence once again.

"Well you know what puts out wildfires?" She asks, rhetorically, "water."

He sighs, once again defeated.

"Alright, let's get started."

It's not two minutes before she tells him he's doing it wrong. Apparently scrolls are to be organized by subject matter, not date. They are to be stored in rows of five, with no more than three layers on top of the base of the scroll pyramid in each drawer. Apparently that puts too much stress on them and could damage the parchment. He considers arguing that the condition of his paper isn't exactly the Fire Lord's main concern, but he knows exactly how that argument would end.

"Honestly Zuko, what would you do without me?" She asks, putting away one of the final scrolls.

"I did a decent job for a while. It's only recently that things have gotten out of hand."

"And why's that?"

He considers a non-answer, but he knows she'll pry.

"I guess because me and Mai broke up."

She stops in her tracks.

"What? When did this happen? And why didn't you tell me? I've been here for a week, don't you think that's important information?"

He looks away sheepishly.

"I didn't want you to feel bad for me. Besides, you're going through your own breakup."

"Zuko you're my friend. Of course I'm going to feel bad for you. Just like you feel bad for me. Except you didn't get to run away to a friend's palace."

"Hence," he waves his arm across the room, "the messy office."

"That's not exactly an effective coping mechanism."

"I guess I just needed a lit bit of chaos in my life."

She chuckles.

"So your big act of rebellion was refusing to clean up your office?"

"Not like there's much else you can do from the Fire Nation palace. The court is fairly stuffy."

She considers this for a moment.

"Well then," she remarks, if slightly unsure of her meaning, "I guess I'll just have to be your chaos."

* * *

Water is the element of change. Sometimes that means a tsunami or a flood, sometimes it's just the calm reminder of the ebbs and flows of the tide.

He's skeptical when she first approaches him with it. Well... she doesn't approach him. She leaves him a note. And an all too familiar blue mask, one he's long since retired. It's late at night, right around the time a Fire Lord should probably be getting to sleep. He's not particularly in the mood for riddles. Then she enters brandishing her own mask, one constructed as much of smoke and mirrors as paint and expression.

"What do you think?" She asks, with a light twinge of hope mixed in with the intended curiosity.

"The Painted Lady," he breathes, "my mother used to tell me stories about her."

This earns a smile. And silence.

"Why masks?" he asks, almost rhetorically. He knows the answer. He guesses he'd just like to hear it out loud.

"Because water and Fire Lords don't mix."

It hits home in more ways than one.

"This way we don't have to be Fire Lord Zuko and Lady Katara. We can just be... us."

This time he's the one who smiles. She's right of course, objectively at least. He doesn't want the Fire Lord to be associated with whatever it is they're about to do.

But he knows from the start that that's not why she says it. It's freeing, he thinks, to be the Blue Spirit again. To just act on the basest animal instincts, to survey the far reaches of the Fire Nation capital as a vigilante and not a king. To protect people unconditionally as he always imagined he would. It suits him, it connects him to himself. Blue really is his color, an admission she forces him to make on around their fourth foray into the night. Of course, that doesn't stop him from removing his mask to throw eggs at his ex-girlfriend's house. He wants this to be Zuko's victory, however small, not the Blue Spirit's, not the Fire Lord's.

"Well someone's a vengeful ex," she laughs, "remind me never to break your heart."

"I'd like to believe you won't. Besides, you'd egg Aang's house if he had one."

"I suppose I could throw eggs at Appa."

"You'd just be giving him a light snack."

And then, they hear some rustling off in the distance.

"Let's go check it out."

"Lead the way."

* * *

Lightning is stubborn, but lightning is compromising, an aggressive teacher willing to concede in bits and pieces to a worthy student. Explosions are a thing of the past, replaced by a light stumble and only occasional fall. The lightning does not shoot from his finger tips as a weapon, but surrounds his aura as a growing specter, as if whispering pride into his ear. _You're getting closer_, it seems to say, _you're nearly there_. He is not yet its guide, rather its occasional butler, allowing it to enter and exit as it sees fit. He may not see it as often as he likes (even now, it's only a rare blue streak here and a slight hue in the air there), but its presence is noted and confirmed. Lightning is ready to strike. It just needs its conductor to take its place.

Katara looks on in public, Iroh in private, the two watching two very different tales unfold. She's in awe, herself exhibiting quite a bit of pride in the powers of her friend. He is agitated, but pleasantly, waiting for the last domino to fall. His nephew is so close, he knows, and so is she. Now all they need is one last push.

* * *

Air is surprisingly stubborn. It blows when it sees fit, engulfing a world that wouldn't mind the occasional reprieve. There is no controlling air, it is a forceful as it is free.

"I'm going," he spews, refusing to consider the council of his friends.

"Listen Twinkle Toes, she wanted space, barging in on her while she's trying to take that isn't going to do anything for you."

Sokka is oblivious to many things, but not this. So he agrees with Toph, even if the idea of whatever's going on at the Royal Palace doesn't exactly thrill him.

"I agree Aang. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. At the very least you should wait until she's ready."

"Look, she either loves me or not. Waiting around isn't going to do anyone any good. I have to see her. I have to know."

* * *

It's not that this particular patrol was challenging. It'd be pretty hard for a group of petty thugs to challenge two of the world's strongest benders, especially under a full moon. But it's seven-on-two, it's nearly dawn and when you're doing this as a hobby you just aren't as sharp as you were when it was about survival. He doesn't get decapitated, but he comes far too close for her liking. Her cut is deeper than he'd prefer, but nothing a little bit of rest won't fix. Yet when it's all said and done, they smile to each other, even share a bit of a laugh. Both are tattered, neither are close to broken. So when they sit on a nearby rooftop in quiet contemplation, neither sees the need to spoil it with unnecessary conversation. Not at first anyway. Curiosity has ruined far greater things than mere moments. The answers he seeks are far more internal than the question suggests, but he supposes subconsciously that it's a nice way to get it out in the open.

"Do you ever miss it?"

She looks away for the faintest of instances. It's guilt. He knows that feeling all too well.

"Yea... I do. Far more than I should."

"Things were easier back then. Everything was defined, even when I wasn't."

"It was real."

It's ironic, he thinks, how much harsher the realities of peace seem than the fast-paced reactionary world of war.

"I agree. There weren't any masks. Even when there were."

"I've felt that way recently."

His heart spikes.

"I have too."

"It's just... I like being Katara. Not Lady Katara, Water Tribe diplomat. Not Katara, the Avatar's girlfriend. Just... Katara. Whatever Katara chooses to be. Things were easier back then because we were just doing what we thought was right, we were helping people, never really stopping to consider what it all meant. Then we just became a part of the world we helped create. I had to pretend to be someone I wasn't, and now all I want to be is what I want to be. I like having some stability for once, I like just doing what feels right again. I like whatever it is that we're doing."

He agrees.

"I like being Zuko. For so long I didn't know what that meant. I thought it was about honor, I thought it was about pride or respect or rank. But it's not. It's just... living, and living the way that feels right. I like being the Fire Lord, but I don't _like_ being the Fire Lord. It's my sacrifice to the world, one I'm happy to make, but for the longest time I had a hard time being just... Zuko."

He sees it in her eyes. He knows that she knows exactly what he means. Where he's going. She prods him on.

"But lately, I've felt like even when I'm the Fire Lord, or the Blue Spirit, or whatever the world wants of me... I can just be me. No strings attached, no games. I've felt that way ever since you came back. I feel that whenever I'm with you."

Their faces inch closer together.

"Me too."

Their lips don't collide. A collision of fire and water makes steam, their kiss isn't nearly so explosive. But it's boiling, it grows more aggressive in the moment, never reaching the point of no return.

They fall asleep in each other's arms that night, as they have every night since her return. Only this time, he doesn't feel quite as guilty about it as he has before. This time, it feels right.

* * *

Air, water and fire makes... well... a clusterfuck.

He panics when he's informed of the Avatar's arrival. He hasn't even left bed, and neither has she. They scramble to prepare themselves, and admittedly to a pretty poor job of it. Neither would particularly mind keeping the Avatar waiting, but neither knows exactly how this little reunion is going to go down. Nor do they know what the other is thinking. They can't help but appreciate the sheer inconvenience of his timing. Maybe it's an Avatar thing.

Their walk to the perimeter of the palace is silent. Awkwardly silent. Neither knows exactly what to say at the moment, though both could fill Wan Shi Tong's library with the words they'd _like_ to say. or, rather, _yearn_ to say. He looks a bit too stern when they arrive. Not suspicious, but impatient to say the least. He knows this might be a bit uncomfortable. He decides to spare her the discomfort of greeting him first.

"Hey Aang," Zuko offers, feigning enough excitement, "what brings you to the Fire Nation?"

"I need to talk to Katara. In private."

Well... someone's not in the mood for small talk today. He turns to her, seeking guidance. She gives a slight nod, he acquiesces.

"Ok, I'll be inside. You know where to find me."

"Thank you Zuko," she smiles.

To be fair, he's not lying. He does go inside. He just omits the fact that he'll be sitting by a conveniently located window. He won't be able to hear them, that'd simply be rude, but if he should happen to at least watch them hold their private discussion... well... blame the architect, not him.

He can't help but wish they'd be a bit more... heated. There aren't enough frantic hand movements for his liking. They don't seem to be yelling. In fact, Katara's body language is a bit too... hopeful. Aang's doesn't exactly match it, but based on what he'd seen earlier he'd expect a bit more anger, or at least outward displays. He can't tell what's going on down there, but he knows he doesn't like it. He knows something is causing that sinking feeling in his gut. When he sees her pull in for a hug, he's had enough. He can smell which way the wind is blowing. He storms off, seeking some form of release. He returns to his usual spot.

In that moment, he ignores his uncle's teachings. He reverts to fire, following the motion to perfection with none of the spirituality to match it. He groans outwardly when the explosion knocks him back, but inside he needs it. At the moment, he's really a glutton for punishment. So he stands, he positions himself, and he fires. Same result. He continues in that pattern several times, never even attempting to hide his disgust for his entire life. He was _so_ close.

It's only after the ninth time he's knocked unceremoniously onto his ass that he notices a familiar voice in the background.

"Come on Zuko, I thought you were past the explosions."

He jerks his head around almost instantaneously, forgetting for only an instant why he was so angry to appreciate who was standing in front of him. That instant passes in... well... an instant.

"Shouldn't you be off with your boyfriend," he practically spits.

"I don't have one," she remarks in a manner that's far too blasé considering the circumstances, "but there's someone I have my eye on. That is, if he'll still have me."

He nearly does a double take.

"What happened? You guys looked so... happy."

"Well... I wouldn't say happy is the right word. But definitely civil."

"You seemed so hopeful, and you two hugged."

"That's because I am hopeful. In case you didn't realize this last night, I really like you Zuko. I'm excited for what we have. So when I told Aang about what happened, I guess it was just hard not to show it. He was disappointed, so I gave him a hug. I wanted him to know that we'd both always be there for him as friends, and that there was absolutely someone out there for him. It just isn't me, and he happened to take it really well."

"So are you saying what I think you're saying."

She laughs in exasperation.

"Yes you idiot. I want to be your girlfriend."

His grin is as relieved as it is thrilled.

"Good, because I want to be your boyfriend."

And they embrace, refusing to release for several moments.

"You should try it again," she murmurs, face still buried in his shoulder.

"What?"

"The lightning. You should try it again. I think you're going to like what happens."

So without a word, he moves off of her and into his stance, her faith unwavering as she watches in support. He breathes, in through the nose, out through the mouth. His mind is clear. Not clear as it had been, but really, truly, clear. As if he has been freed from all that which burdened him in the past. He has no past holding him back, he has a future to look forward to. There isn't the faintest trace of doubt in his mind. So when his fingers trace that invisible circle, he isn't surprised when the lightning follows. He guides it around the edges of his flexibility, taking it as far as he can before pulling it back into his body and releasing it into the sky in one elegant blast. She immediately pulls him back in.

"I knew you could do it."

He laughs.

"I can't believe I didn't see it before. I can't believe after everything Toph and Uncle and everyone else said, I still didn't realize that this is what they meant."

"Well you are pretty dense sometimes," she jokes, "everyone knows that water conducts electricity."


End file.
